Confessions of a Well-Meaning Woman
conversation on to repatriation of aliens, but I haven’t done with him yet.”
It is this boyish irresponsibility that may be Will’s undoing! Mere high spirits. . . Before I could utter a word of warning, the music had changed again, every one was dancing and Will had jumped up to join them. I looked on—and marvelled; I had not seen any of these modern dances. And, when I could bear it no longer, I turned my back and began reading a paper. . .
That did in time have an effect; or perhaps they merely tired of their revels. But truly honestly, if I had not made a protest, no one would. Nothing was said, but there was what I can only call an atmosphere of guilt. Then Sir Adolphus discovered that dancing, too, was “unsociable” and enquired whether there was not something that we could all do. . .
Goodness me, are we so bankrupt in intelligence that we need to be given childish games to help us kill time? Has conversation died out in England? And you will remember that I was being invited to meet “artists” of every shape and size, who are never so happy as when they are sneering at the uncultured Philistines. These “artists”, apparently, unless you encouraged them to dance or gave them rattles, would have sat down and cried. The others—
93
